


Angel Within Me, Always Beside Me

by astralluna



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Multiple, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralluna/pseuds/astralluna
Summary: “You’ll always be with me, remember?”There was no other warning given before a brilliant burst of light erupted from Joker, and there stood Metatron in all of its righteous glory, metallic-like wings spread wide and imposing.--Akechi doesn't believe there is anything in him worth saving. Akira is desperate to prove him wrong.





	Angel Within Me, Always Beside Me

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for this fic before it got carried away from me. Not too sure how I feel overall, but I've decided to post it anyways. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Un-betaed, so apologizes for any mistakes

It was a much more frequent occurrence than Akechi had initially suspected. Not that it constituted as a bad thing, of course. It was just that something about the habitual action striked Akechi as rather...odd, for lack of a better term. There Joker was, sitting on one of the available chairs in the safe room, polishing his gun for what appeared to be the fifth time since they started today, if Akechi has been keeping track correctly. He had found it bizarre. No gun needed  _ that  _ much polishing. Joker rarely used it, as well. There was no way even a minor speck of dirt could be found on it. 

And yet, Joker always took it out to either polish or inspect it while the Thieves took the time to recover in a safe room. It was mesmerizing, in a way, to witness the fearless leader of the Phantom Thieves look so docile, so calm and at peace with himself while admiring his gun, a hint of a faraway gaze held within his eyes. As though looking at it sends him to an entirely different world. 

His mesmerizing lasted a second too long, as Joker looked up and their gazes connected. His peaceful expression changed back into his signature wicked smirk and daring eyes. It never ceased to amaze Akechi how quickly and fluidly the thief could change his expression to accommodate any given situation. Changing his facade as easily as he changes his personas. 

“See something you like?”

Akechi had to will himself not to roll his eyes at the playful tone the thief seemed to enjoy adopting when addressing the detective. Instead, he motioned with his head towards the gun. “Where did you acquire that?”

And just like that, the mask falls. Joker’s smile fades away, and a solemn expression takes its place. He glances down at the gun in his hand, that faraway look taking root in his eyes again before looking back up at Akechi. His eyes suddenly seem to sharpen, focusing on the detective with that familiar determination Akechi has come to associate with the Thieves’ leader. Joker walks over towards him, stretching his arm out and offering Akechi his gun. Akechi must not have done a good job at hiding his genuine surprise at the sudden action because Joker just offers him a genuine smile, the same kind of smile he usually sees the thief wear when it was just the two of them at Leblanc, and offers him the gun again. Akechi looks down at the gun, not liking the flurry of sensations seeing that smile causes him, and gently takes the gun into his own hands. 

It really was unlike any gun he had ever seen. The most obvious distinction being the miniature replicas of what appeared to be angel wings adorning the sides. Perhaps Akechi was overthinking it, but the gun seemed to almost vibrate with some kind of unexplainable power that resonated with him. 

All in all, there was no denying that this gun held a specialty unlike the rest. He looked back up at Joker, who was studying him. Akechi ignored the small sensation he felt at being observed, and handed the gun back to its rightful owner. Joker took the gun, but kept his gaze locked on Akechi. 

“Do you like it?” Joker asks, catching Akechi off guard. It was an odd question to ask, in the detective’s opinion. Though it appeared Joker was only asking out of genuine curiosity, no underlying malice to be detected.

Now Akechi just felt like he was getting overly paranoid. He mentally chided himself before answering. “It’s obvious that it is unlike any other of its kind. It seems to be quite special to you.”

Joker nods, glancing at his gun once more. If it weren’t for the fact that they were in close proximity to one another, Akechi might have missed what Joker says next due to him lowering his voice to an almost whisper. “It took a lot for me to finally get this.”

Akechi tilts his head in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?

He opens his mouth to ask, but Joker just shakes his head. He puts the gun away, and turns back towards the other members of the group. “Break time’s over.”

They nod, and begin readying to depart. Akechi could more than see that was Joker’s way of avoiding any further discussion on the topic. Oh well, it wasn’t like it was something incredibly important. 

***

“Alright, let’s call it a day,” Joker announced. Nobody protested, seeing as everyone was still catching their breaths from their last battle. They made a considerable amount of progress today, but their supplies were beginning to run low. It would be best to retreat for the day and regroup tomorrow.

As they made their way to the elevator, Joker lightly put his hand on Akechi’s arm. Akechi turned to see the leader giving him a look, telling him without words to hang back. Of course, the action doesn’t escape the notice of Queen. 

“Joker?” Queen calls out.

“You guys go on ahead,” he gestures with his hand. “We’ll catch up.”

The group hesitates for a moment before reluctantly obeying. They ride the elevator down, leaving Akechi and Joker standing alone in the middle of the High Limit Floor. Although shadows weren’t likely to appear in this area, lingering around in the casino didn’t seem like the wisest choice. 

But Joker remained where he stood, hands in his pockets and posture completely relaxed. He was gazing up towards the ceiling, watching as a never ending rain of cards came fluttering down all around them. It truly was mystifying, though upsetting that such a spectacle was the result of a largely abhorred display of over-rot desire manifesting as Sae-san’s palace. 

“Is there something you wish to discuss?” Akechi asked, not wanting to linger too long on the fact that he knew Joker deliberately told the Phantom Thieves to go, so that he could create this moment between the two of them. Joker always had a specific reason for the things he did, and it never failed to bother Akechi that he couldn’t figure out what every one of those reasons could be. 

Joker just shook his head, still staring up at the ceiling. On any other occasion, the silence wouldn’t nearly be as unsettling as it was becoming between them. Akechi knew that it was due to being in a palace that were firing off every one of his defense instincts. “Then we shouldn’t linger. We don’t know if any shadows may attempt to ambush us.”

Joker finally turns towards him, cocky smirk quirking up at the corners of his lips. “You don’t think we can handle ourselves in an ambush?”

“I’m saying there’s no reason for us to deliberately place ourselves in a disadvantage position if we can avoid it at all possible,” Akechi fired back. Sometimes Joker could be too overconfident for his own good, but there was no denying that a small part of Akechi knew the thief was right in behaving that way. 

He allows himself this moment to just simply  _ be _ with the Thieves’ leader, a luxury he hasn’t had much recently due to the increase of Shido’s demands, and his current plans. Akechi would be lying if he said he didn’t miss this. It was far too easy to fall into the easy cadence with which Joker set everything around him. Guiding serenity herself to encapsulate this one moment in light of millions to lock both him and Crow away from the rest of the world. 

Maybe that, too, was one of the seemingly endless miracles Joker was able to perform. 

“Tell me Crow,” Joker suddenly spoke up, “do you believe in fate?”

To say the question came out of nowhere would be an understatement. Akechi couldn’t understand why Joker wanted to have such a conversation now of all times. Couldn’t he wait until after they left this dangerous palace, and retreated to the safety of Leblanc before humoring him with philosophical idle talk?

“Joker, I really don’t think this is the time for-”

“Humor me,” Joker cuts in. 

Akechi tried his best not to let his irritation at being interrupted show on his face. He shifted his weight to one leg and placed a hand on his hip. Well, he might as well answer since it was obvious Joker wasn’t going to let him go unless he relented. “If you want to know so badly, then no. I do not believe in fate. I believe in conviction. I believe we are dealt a hand, and our outcome is strictly decided on how we choose to use it. ”

Joker kept his expression neutral, but Akechi knows he was being studied by the Phantom Thief’s leader. It appears he was a wealth of knowledge to be studied today.

Joker finally decides to speak up. “So, you’re a believer of deciding your destiny for yourself?”

Akechi snorts at the absurdity of the question. “If you wish to romanticize the notion, then be my guest. However, I do not like to think of it in that manner.”

“Then how do you like to think of it?” Joker asks, still wanting to continue this conversation for god knows why.

“Perhaps I’ll detail it for you later once we’ve safely returned to the real world,” Akechi answers back, sealing the conversation without any room for continuation. They were already testing their luck, as it were. 

The leader seemed put out by this, but honestly, what did Joker expect him to say? What was there even  _ to  _ say? Was he perhaps attempting to lure Akechi into having a long, heart-to-heart discussion about how they were the masters of their own destinies or how they could rewrite the stars to create a future they wished for? Did he expect Akechi to actually hearken to that idealistic dribble the same way the other members of the Phantom Thieves did?

Akechi always valued his outlook on life to being that of realism. He understood that there was no point in dreaming of hypotheticals. He could accept the notion of there being some form of greater force or being, be that god or devil or something else entirely. There was no other reasonable explanation that could perfectly sum up the existence of personas and the Metaverse, after all. 

However, fate never gave a damn about Goro Akechi. His very existence was treated as though he were tossed into Life’s lap as an inconvenience, a burden forced into its care, rather than a miracle. While Death looked into the eyes of Akira Kurusu and thought  _ I want nothing more than to see you  _ ** _live_ ** .

Without breaking eye contact, Joker swiftly captures a card falling from above between his middle and forefinger. He turns the card over, allowing himself to break eye contact long enough to see which card he had caught. His expression melted into that of the same one he had earlier when he was looking at his gun, the look that seemed so genuine yet tinged with sadness all the same, before looking back at Akechi. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he effortlessly and flawlessly flicked the card straight towards the detective. 

Akechi caught it with the same measure of grace, not wanting to be outdone even in a scenario such as this, and turned the card over.

It was an ace of hearts.

His chest tightened by some inexpiable emotions. What the hell was Joker trying to pull here? Everything he did had a purpose behind it, so what was it here? Akechi looked back up to find that same soft expression painting Joker’s features. Even though his eyes were shaded and hidden behind his mask and bangs, the fractals of dazzling lights still bounced off his irises to make them visible to Akechi. It was then that the detective realized just what was bugging him about that particular expression all this time, and why seeing it on Joker’s face made him feel strange.

It was  _ Akira’s _ expression. It was the expression of soft smiles and even softer eyes. It was the expression of peace and patience, of letting Akechi know that he didn’t have to wear his detective prince facade or impress him with his charms. It was the look of a fellow companion, one who was there with a warm cup of coffee and a listening ear to help ease your burdens away. 

Akechi has tried so hard to keep the image of Akira and Joker separate in his mind because it was easier to hate and envy the heroic Phantom Thieves’ leader Joker, and have to dispose of him to further his own interests. It was less easier to look at the normal barista serving him his favorite coffee behind a counter in a seclusive coffee shop, while imagining how that pretty face would look with a bullet through his skull and blood splattering the walls. 

There was no denying that the moment granted to them was a beautiful one. Joker was beautiful; a truth Akechi long since stopped denying to himself. But beauty alone could not sustain a man without a conviction to act upon or utilize it. The strings of fate may have blessed Akechi with many beautiful moments between him and Joker, but in the end the cards all fell the same. Their beauty, their time, was never meant to last.

With a heavier heart than Akechi would have thought necessary, he allows the card to slip through his fingers. Allows it to flutter to the ground and be lost among the countless other forgotten whims of fate. 

He walks past Joker without uttering a single word, enters the elevator, and rides it down.

***

“I want to show you something.”

That got the attention of the detective sitting in front of him. Akechi turned, and pinned him with a curious gaze. Akira dropped his own gaze down, assuming nonchalance while scrubbing at the already spotless counter top. He had been psyching himself up all day to say those words to Akechi. Now that he had, he was suddenly left feeling anxious and unsure, though he would never let it show. 

He shouldn’t be wanting to prolong this. It had taken so long, so  _ painfully  _ long, to finally get to this point. How many attempts was this? How many loses and heartaches and what ifs did he cycle through before fate decided to take fucking pity on his poor soul, and give him this chance?

Akira couldn’t tell anymore. He stopped counting after he lost the ability to see past the blood that stained his hands as red as his gloves. 

It had started out innocent at first. A simple  _ If only Akechi were here _ he said in passing to Lavenza on his last day in Tokyo. She had looked at him, a strange mixture of sadness and uncertainty, like she was weighing the options of a decision she may very well come to regret. Hope and admiration in her Trickster must have won out in the end, for she revealed to Akira that there was a way. A way for him to go back and save Akechi from his cruel fate, so that he could be given a chance to live in this new free world. 

Akira couldn’t believe what he had just heard. A chance to go back? To possibly save Akechi, and give him the life and future that had been wrongfully taken from him? How could he  _ not  _ have agreed to that?

So he traveled back, confidant that he would be able to make things right. But when he failed to change the outcome of Akechi’s fate, he pleaded with Lavenza and Igor for another chance. Then another and another, ultimately refusing to stop until he had succeeded. 

He still hears it. Every second of every waking day; like a broken record on repeat in his even more broken mind. The sound of a gunshot, the slam of a heavy wall coming down, the whispered pleas of a promise. It replaced what used to be the soothing chime of the bell above Leblanc’s door, and the delicate placement of a coffee cup offered to him by Sojiro. These memories-that  _ moment _ -never leaves him. 

Akira supposes this was the price to pay when he decided to play the strings of fate, as though it were his own personal instrument. He realized he was abusing Igor’s power without the slightest bit of apprehension to the disaster that could be unleashed when using the powers of a God with such reckless abandon, but the bottom line was that he had stopped caring many lifetimes ago. If fate was stupid enough to place Personas and a connection to Godhood within his grasp, then he was damn sure going to take advantage of it in anyway he could. 

Yaldabaoth was right to fear him. Maybe that was why Igor kept acquiescing to his pleas for another attempt every time he failed. Maybe he, as perceptive and omnipotent as he was, realized that Akira just  _ could not be tamed _ . 

A little upsetting, but he guess it was to be expected. All that matters to Akira is that Igor trusts him nonetheless, and will continue to aid him in whatever he chooses to do. He doesn’t mind feigning to be the pawn Yaldabaoth thinks of him to be for just a little bit longer. 

He places the rag off to the side before collecting Akechi’s empty cup, and placing it in the sink. He could call Kawakami over to clean the dishes for him. He unfastens his apron at the same time Akechi begins to stand, and collect his things. Akira tells him to wait outside as he makes a quick call to his teacher, before locking up. He guides him along to the station, standing close when no seats are to be found, and quickly stepping off once they’ve reached Shibuya. Throughout the whole ride, Akechi kept trying to squeeze out any hints he could get as to where he was being led to. Akira, never being one to shy away from teasing his friends, entertained the older teen by responding to his inquires with vague answers while giving nothing away.

Akechi already had his phone out by the time they managed to secure a relatively secluded space just short of exiting the station, having already pieced together Akira’s intentions. He still decides to ask. “Are you planning on entering Mementos?”

Akira nods. He glances at Akechi’s phone, a silent cue for him to do the honors. He does, and after a few seconds of reality warping away, the manifestation of the masses’ subconscious fully comes into light. Akira finds it to be quite ironic that in a dangerous place such as Mementos, he feels as though he could breathe a little easier. The comforting weight of the mask on his face, and coat billowing in the slight breeze made him feel relaxed. Akira may have felt anxious, but Joker did not. He turns to see Akechi- _ Crow _ -in his dazzling prince outfit, awaiting for his command. He’s got to hand it to his teammate. As much as Joker excels at masquerading as the fool, Crow is even better at feigning submission and letting others take the lead. 

He wonders what Akechi sees in him when they don their phantom thieves outfit. Does he see the powerful and fearless leader like all the others do? Brave and charismatic without even needing to try? Or does he see the many faces that hide behind the mask? Could he see the fractures of his mind or the tears in his facade? 

It used to worry Akira how easily everyone took his actions at surface value without so much as attempting to get a glimpse at what lay below. How they could take his smirk as an insignia for fearlessness, and not for the cowardly wall he hid behind that it was. He wondered how they couldn’t see the difference; the way he adapted to the Metaverse a little too easily or how he always managed to come back bearing newer and much more deadly and powerful personas each time.

Of course they wouldn’t notice, Joker kept reminding himself.  _ They  _ weren’t the ones who kept on reliving these moments.

Without a word, Joker began leading Crow down the escalators that lead further into the depths. He was keenly aware of Justine’s and Caroline’s gaze upon them, and knows for a fact Crow was too. Though he never showed it, Joker had finally caught the moment he chanced a glance their way and saw acknowledgement in his eyes. He makes a mental note to ask the twins if Akechi had ever once visited them or not. 

They walked a little further out before he signaled for Crow to stop. This spot was good enough for Joker to do what he needed to. The shadows here were weak, and wouldn’t dare come anywhere near them after sensing their immense power. 

Not one to stall things, Crow asks “What did you want to show me?”

Joker took a deep breath. This was it; the moment of truth. He reached up and pulled his mask off his face. He raised it high above him, and called out the name of the persona he had been holding back all this time to finally come forth and reveal itself. 

“ _ Metatron! _ ”

In a flash of blue fire and heavenly light, the glory that was Metatron took form. Towering over him like the divine being he was, his mere presence illuminated Mementos and drove all shadows away. 

The awestruck expression painted on Crow’s face made Joker’s heart swell with relief and adoration, knowing that he made the right choice in showing the other this persona. That every life-altering decision he’s made so far were all worth it, if it meant just that one look from Crow alone would be enough to wipe all the stains clean from his rebel heart.

“Joker, it’s…” Crow paused, at a loss for words. “It’s incredible,” he finally settled on. He continues to gaze upon the holy being, and Joker wishes desperately that he would remove his mask so that there would be no filter hiding his full honest expression. 

“But…” Crow continued, “why are you showing me this?”  _ What’s the point? _ , is what goes unsaid. 

Joker’s mouth becomes as dry as a desert. All that time planning for this very moment, and Joker didn’t think of a way to explain to Akechi just how significant this was for him. How foolish could he be? Did he just assume showing him Metatron would be enough to suddenly unveil the truth and mystery behind everything? That Akechi would just instinctively  _ know _ , and that in turn would grant Joker the mercy of having to explain to him the things he has done to allow for this to happen?

That, by revealing the Voice of God itself, the dazzling prince would finally fall in love with him, the fool of a phantom, just as he had fallen in love with the prince countless lifetimes over?

_ Of course you did _ , a sinister voice taunted him from within his mind. Because turning a blind eye to reality had become as natural as breathing for Joker once he was granted the power to do so. He should have known better. People like him weren’t destined for fairy tale endings. 

“This persona symbolizes something...special between you and me,” Joker finally answers. When Crow tilts his head in confusion, he tries to elaborate, but no matter how hard he tries to wrap his brain around it, the right words just don’t seem to appear. He takes another steady breath to calm himself. Speaking from his heart was always his go-to when strategy or deceit wouldn’t cut it. 

So, that’s why he doesn’t let himself hesitate and says “This persona symbolizes you. The  _ real  _ you.” 

It was almost whiplash inducing how fast Crow’s defensive flared up at that admission. How quickly his posture stiffens, and eyes narrow into an untrustful glare. It broke Joker’s heart at seeing how Akechi’s gut reaction at hearing something complementary or earnest directed towards him was to immediately be wary and distrustful. That there couldn’t possibly be anyone in the world who thought of Akechi as being some divine, majestic being worthy of love and admiration. 

The next words out of the detective’s mouth stung with just how vitriolic they were. “If this is just another one of your pitiful attempts at charming me, I must say I’m not impressed.”

The leader’s brain short circuited for a second. “Crow, it’s not-”

“Do you honestly expect me to buy this charade? That I’m some kind of  _ angel  _ in your eyes? Do you really think so lowly of me?” Crow spats. If Joker wasn’t paying such close attention, he would have nearly missed it. The hint of fear coating Crow’s words, and doubt shrouding his eyes. Like he was desperately forcing Joker to say it was all an act. That the thief wasn’t just throwing out a false beacon of hope for it to come crashing down on him. Akechi had been hurt one too many times by false hope. He didn’t want himself to get hurt again. 

“This isn’t some joke or charade, Crow,” Joker pleads for the other to hear the truth in his words. “I wouldn’t have been able to gain this persona if there wasn’t a light inside of you. If our bond wasn’t real, and everything between us had been a lie.” He couldn’t tell if his words were having any effect on the other, but still he soldiered on. “Metatron is proof of how much our friendship, our  _ bond _ , is real. It’s proof of how much you mean to me.”

“How could I ever mean anything to you?” Crow asked, in a voice so broken that Joker felt his own soul shatter.

How could Akechi even ask something like that? How could he not understand or  _ realize _ ?

_ I bled for you _ , Joker wanted to scream.  _ I gave up everything to see you smile. I damned myself, so you could  _ ** _live_ ** _ . _

He allowed Arsene to set his very veins on fire with each new beginning. He allowed Akechi to put a gun to his head, and pull the trigger if it meant he found some semblance of peace. He allowed Yaldabaoth to lead mankind to the brink of ruin just to have the satisfaction of bringing about his end. 

He sank cruise ships of pride, and toppled gods from their thrones. He used every bit of his righteous vengeance to rain down all hell on those responsible for ruining their lives. Ruining  _ Akechi’s  _ life. He did it all with Metatron. The persona born from his unyielding and unbreakable blood pact with Akechi. 

Metatron represented all that was good, righteous, and pure within Akechi. Metatron proved that the true face of Akechi’s character wasn’t that of the monster Loki, or even that of the hero Robin Hood. He was a being born from light, capable of bringing about destruction if he so chose. 

“This-,” Joker gestured to Metatron, “this is who you are to me. Someone who is proud, not arrogant. Someone who is righteous, not corrupt. Someone who is a  _savior_, not a monster.”

“Joker-” 

“Metatron was born when our vow became an oath. It was born when you entrusted everything to me during your final moments. You gave me this power to take down Shido, and save our world from ruin.”

The sudden admission rang loudly in the otherwise hollow area. Crow snapped his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying whatever it was he was about to say. Joker didn’t need to use his third eye to know that his teammate was overcome with shock at the revelation. He could practically see the gears turning in that brilliant mind of the ace detective, taking in every bit of information he was given to try to make sense of what he’s been told. 

All that came out in the end was, “What do you mean by that?”

And how the hell was he supposed to explain all of  _ that  _ to him? Where would he even start? 

“I lost-” he begins but stops, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

_ I lost you _ , the despair that rotted the very core of his soul and threatened to consume him whole.  _ I lost myself _ , the monster chained in a cage and trapped in the back of his mind howled to be released. 

With his back against the wall, and no other choice, he leans on honesty to save him from this grave he dug for himself. So, Joker tells Crow everything. No barriers, no lies. From everything that went down during his first lifetime, to the subsequent deal with Igor, to everything that fell in place afterwards. All of the do-overs he’s done; the choices he’s made. How he tried so hard to hold onto his ideals and morality, but couldn’t help it when he let all of humanity, along with himself, slip away into ruin if it meant his own desires could be satisfied. 

Everything was out in the open. He bared the ugliness parts of his soul to Crow, and where Joker thought would be despair or shame, he only found  _ relief _ . 

“Losing you hurt like hell.” Joker admits, voice tight with burning emotion, “But once you gave me Metatron, I realized…” He trails off. What  _ had  _ he realized? He remembers his reaction when he finally succeeded in fusing Metatron; the overwhelming elation so blinding with its intensity that it brought him to tears. The feelings of satisfaction and pride at knowing he had finally done it. He could finally make good on the promise he made to Akechi. Metatron was now forever a part of him. Never to disappear or be forgotten, even if Joker had to momentarily execute him to obtain his precious gun. 

Joker only hesitated briefly when that decision had to be made, and even then he had to remind himself that he could always get Metatron back. The persona was bonded to his very blood, and in that moment, as he gazed up at his new brilliant creation, it felt as though Akechi were right by his side again. Like he had never left him. It made him realize-

“I wasn’t alone anymore,” Joker breathed, and with it came a sudden rush of clarity. As though he had been asleep this whole time, and had finally  _ truly  _ awakened. He looks at Crow, and it’s like the world has shifted on its axis. Everything appearing in a new perspective. 

“I wasn’t alone, “ he repeats, “because having Metatron was like having a part of you there beside me. You were always there, even when you weren’t.”

Joker will forever be grateful for the love and support from the other Phantom Thieves, the guidance and parental love from Sojiro, and the unshakable loyalty from all of his other confidants he has received. But deep down he always knew none of them could ever understand or connect with him in the way Akechi can. They weren’t be enough because where as they, and the rest of the world, moved on and had forgotten, Joker had continued chasing after the phantom of a long gone Goro Akechi. 

He walks over to Crow, Metatron an ever-looming presence above him. Crow doesn’t move, allowing him to stand close but with enough space as to not overwhelm the former. Joker guides the wings of his guardian angel around them, until they are completely enveloped in its safety and warmth. 

He can see Crow’s breath hitch at the action. He raises a gloved hand up towards the red mask, silently asking for permission. A mere second of hesitation appears in the prince’s eyes before he gives his consent by nodding. Joker pushes Crow’s mask over his head, removing the last wall standing between them. 

Red clashes with grey, as both eyes search the other. Always studying, always waiting; an ever-revolving cat and mouse game with no end in sight. But Joker was done pretending, done chasing. 

Maybe people like him weren’t destined for fairy tale endings, but as he stood there gazing into the eyes of the starlight prince who stole his heart, he felt himself believing that fate had finally granted him one. 

“You’ll always be with me,” he whispers, a secret kept from the rest of the world. “And now, nothing will ever change that.”

***

Akechi hesitates.

So much time and effort spent planning for this very moment. The moment where he would finally wipe that infuriatingly smug smirk clean off the thief’s face, along with his existence in this world. Every practiced smile and polite gesture, every murder masked and rule followed. All of it, biding his sanity farewell and locking any trace of outlying emotion away deep within his heart, was in the hopes of finally becoming one step closer to his selfish goal. Akechi has even dreamed of this moment countless times over. 

And still he hesitates. 

Because looking at Akira, beaten to hell all while maintaining a neutral expression on his face that belied the defiance glimmering in his eyes, the ace detective could not bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Why did this have to happen? He was so close to his life-long goal. In just a few upcoming weeks, his dreams will have come to fruition and Masayoshi Shido would be too busy burning in a hell of Akechi’s own making, preferably with several bullet holes to the head to seal the deal. 

All Akechi had ever done was to lead up to the moment. A road paved in blood and fire were inconsequential if it meant he would finally have his revenge on the bastard who ruined his life. Maybe this would be that one action that finally made his mother proud, knowing that her cursed child did something right by putting the monster who had tossed her aside six feet under. 

This was just as much avenging her as it was avenging  _ himself _ , Akechi reasons. So, why can’t he just pull the damn trigger and end this once and for all?

Thoughts of their time in Mementos begin floating to the surface of his mind, and with it ever-growing doubt that has been consuming him nonstop since hearing Akira’s shocking revelation. How everything that has happened, everything he thought were the doings of his own decisions, were merely the results of events long since predestined and preordained. That he was nothing more than a disposable pawn in a rigged game whose only purpose was to lead humanity to its ruin. 

That the boy in front of him supposedly shackled the powers of a literal god, so that he could keep reliving the same year over and over again because he couldn’t accept an outcome where Goro himself didn’t survive and live to see a brighter future. 

And that’s the one thing Akechi could not understand. 

How could anyone in the world feel that way for someone like him and actually have it be  _ genuine _ ? How could Akira possibly see anything in him that’s worth saving, even after knowing and seeing all the broken and corrupt aspects of his soul?

** _The same way he showed you his and you still found it within yourself to cherish him_ ** , Robin Hood chimed gently within his mind. 

He closed his eyes. Robin Hood has become particularly bolder more so recently. It almost made Akechi miss the near parasitic itch with which Loki would toy with him. Jeering at him and burning rage through his veins to keep him on track, and most importantly, never letting him forget the real reasons behind his vengeful crusade. 

But unlike Loki, who glorified control and mania, Robin Hood personified Akechi’s true ideals of justice and virtue. In other words, where Loki was truth, sharp and jaded and carved by an unruly, unforgiving society, Robin Hood was a hero straight out of a child’s dream. A being who embodied virtues, morals, and generally everything Akechi had long since given up. 

Then walked in Akira Kurusu into his life, and for the first time, Robin Hood sang with hope. It grew stronger and more empowering with each kind smile and caring gesture sent Akechi’s way by the unassuming barista in an otherwise unassuming coffee shop.

It was the first time in his life someone had genuinely attempted to  _ acknowledge  _ him. Sure, Sae-san had admitted she valued Akechi’s opinion and intellect, that she viewed him as an equal in their line of work, but that was mostly formality. She was just another adult who couldn’t truly comprehend him. Akira, on the other hand, returned his offer and the two formed a bond. 

He had believed he had finally found someone who would be able to understand him. Spending time with Akira made Akechi foolishly believe in hope again. The stronger Robin Hood grew in accordance to their bond, the sicker he felt in his stomach because Akechi was genuinely  _ happy  _ for once, but that happiness was a lie. 

“Goro?”

Akechi felt his breath hitch in his throat. Akira had never called him by his first name before. 

“Are you okay?” the one beaten and drugged to hell asks, and it’s so absurd it almost makes Akechi laugh. 

“Why?” is all the detective can force out, and his voice sounds foreign to him. There’s so much in just that one word, but as always, Akira understands. He  _ always  _ understands.

It’s the first time since Akechi has entered the room that he gets a soft smile that’s so uniquely  _ Akira _ that he can almost delude himself into thinking they’re back at Leblanc, hiding away from the rest of the world, just the two of them. 

“You’re worth saving, Goro,” Akira finally speaks up, breaking Akechi from his momentary trance. The words hit him hard. “Whether you believe it or not, you are. And I couldn’t live with myself knowing I had failed you.”

Akechi feels so overwhelmed that he has to avert his gaze. Akira can’t mean that. There was  _ nothing  _ about him that was worth saving. It just wasn’t plausible. 

But Akira has seen all the outcomes. He knows Akechi better than he could ever know himself, so if someone as righteous and compassionate as Akira says he’s worth saving, shouldn’t Akechi want to believe in that and in him?

His gaze shifts back up to the table, to the phone sitting off to the side, before landing back on Akira. He sees hope and understanding and trust in those grey eyes, and thinks that they should be directed at anyone  _ but  _ him. Happiness was just never in the cards for him. 

“Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps I would have never wanted you to save me?” Akechi questions, unable to stop the biting edge from coating his words. If he was always meant to die and lose in this unjust game no matter how many times Akira tried to prevent it, then what was the point of it all? 

In fact, ever since Akira damned him with the knowledge of his fate, everything suddenly felt meaningless to the ace detective. The one purpose Akechi carved for himself out of a jagged shard of hope was completely taken from his hands and shattered without a speck of remorse. 

Akechi knew deep down that this crusade of his would never amount to anything good in the end, but even this was just too cruel for him to bare. 

“Perhaps it would be better if I did die,” Akechi says, and it’s a statement that freezes the tension in the room. “That way it would save you the trouble of having to stop me from leading humanity to its ruin.”

Rage flashes across Akira’s face like a lightning storm. “No,” he says, thunderous in its finality. “You’re wrong. I won’t allow that.”

“I don’t give a damn whether you will allow it or not!” Akechi finally snaps. “That’s not a decision for you to make!”

“I’ve already made it,” Akira fires back, unflinching, unyielding. This only furthers to heighten Akechi’s anger. “This isn’t the first time I’ve tried changing your fate, and it sure as hell won’t be the last if I have anything to say about it.”

“You are so unbelievably selfish,”

“So are you.”

Akechi should just shoot him right now, if only to spare himself from having to partake in this infuriating conversation a second longer. No matter what the topic of conversation was, this was always the end result when the two of them clashed. They were just too damn prideful and stubborn to give an inch to the other. 

“Well, clearly all of your previous attempts didn’t amount to anything. So, perhaps fate truly wants me to die.” A fact Akechi had always known; one that would never change.  _ Fate never gave a damn about Goro Akechi _

“I thought you didn’t believe in fate? You only believe in conviction. You believe that we are all dealt a hand, and our outcome is decided based on how we choose to use it,” Akira says, throwing Akechi’s own words back at him

Akechi slams the gun with resounding force against the table, fingers still clenched firmly around it in a death grip. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to  _ believe _ .

Robin Hood pleaded to him with gentle words and reassuring warmth; pleaded for calm and reason, and above all else, pleaded for  _ love  _ to let it guide him to the rightful truth. While Loki warred with him and demanded he heed to the call of chaos that nearly threatened to tear him apart; to pick up that gun and blow the brains of this attic trash out so that no one would stand in his way of seeing his vengeance prevail, preordained outcome be damned. 

But just like all the other countless cases concerning Akira, Robin Hood always,  _ always _ , won out in the end. 

Akechi puts the gun down. He looks at Akira and tells him with his eyes, not as an order, not as a threat, but as a plea, to not fight this. For just this once, to take the hand Akechi was dealing him and accept it. 

_ Run _ , Akechi wants to say.  _ Run as far and as fast as you possibly can from me. Don’t let my darkness destroy your light anymore than it already has. _

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he says instead, hoping against all hope his words will pierce through Akira’s thick skull. “Stay out of our way.”  _ Stay out of MY way.  _ “Otherwise,” he picks up the gun again and points it directly at the thief, mere inches from his face. It’s an empty threat veiled in desperation, but Akechi needs to make absolutely certain that there is no mistaking his pleas and conditions in exchange for sparing his life. “the next time we meet, I won’t hesitate to finish what I started. The same goes for your group of friends.”

With that, Akechi pockets the gun and heads towards the door. He doesn’t allow himself to look back, no matter how badly he wants to.

***

“You  _ idiot _ !” Akechi hissed through the searing pain. Black spots danced across his vision, and the wound on his side only seemed to grow in intensity. He knew he shouldn’t waste whatever little strength he had left, knew he shouldn’t strain his already laborious breathing any further, but damn it all if he wasn’t going to tell this unbelievably selfless, recklessly brave dumbass off for trying to play the part of hero to the bitter end. “Are you...trying to get yourself killed?!”

Akira didn’t turn back to respond, acting as though he didn’t even hear him. Normally, this would cause Akechi’s blood to boil at being so blatantly ignored. However, he couldn’t muster the strength to even get riled up. Loki had been subdued after the fight with the Phantom Thieves, withdrawing safely into the depths of Akechi’s soul along with Robin Hood. The detective had already made up his mind. He had made peace with his decision. No matter the outcome, he would not call forth his personas to aid him. He was going to do right by everyone by finally owning up to his crimes and mistakes, and taking responsibility for them. For  _ once _ , he was finally going to act out of his own free will, his own desire. His final act in this wretched world was going to be one of goodness. Of true justice. Of protecting and  _ saving _ .

Why the hell did Akira have to take this one chance away from him  _ again _ ?

“You can hate me all you want for this later,” Akira finally chose to speak up. He turned back at Akechi, his gaze resolved and unrelenting. “But right now, I need you to trust me and stay back. I’ll handle this.” 

There was a fire in his eyes, and a promise tempered in its flames. A promise that they would make it out of here together. That they would make it out of here  _ alive _ . 

A sinister laugh drew their attention back to the perpetrator of their current predicament. The cognitive version of Akechi himself stood there watching the two with its soulless stare and malicious grin, as though this was all just some grand act he found amusing. 

“Well, isn’t this a surprise!” the fake shrieked with warped enthusiasm. He still had a hand secured around the bullet wound Akechi had delivered, and yet it didn’t seem like it fazed him as much as it did previously. The fake turned his full attention towards Akira, not sparing Akechi a second thought. A mistake on his part, as he’ll soon come to know.

“You really would go out of your way to save a wretched piece of shit like him, wouldn’t you?” the impostor questioned tauntingly, lips pulled back into a vicious sneer. Joker remained steadfast and silent, not deeming him worthy of a reply. This only seemed to rile up the cognitive Akechi even more. He raised his gun and aimed it at Akira.

“Fine, if you are so eager to die, then I’ll dispose of you first.” the shadows he summoned earlier stalked forward, moving to surround and close in on their target. It was only then that the fake turned towards Akechi. The detective didn’t think it was possible for its sneer to turn even more sinister.

“And what will you do?” the cognition questioned, voice laced with poisonous velvet, freezing Akechi to the spot. It unnerved him in all the wrong ways, hearing his voice spoken to him like  _ that _ . 

His impostor continued on, undaunted by his silence. “Will you just lay there and watch him die? Won’t you at least return the favor? He saved your miserable life. Was that not worth saving his in return?” The taunts grew merciless, embedding into Akechi like a poisonous blade and twisting it deeper with each decimating question.

“I wonder…” His voice lowers to an almost whisper, the sudden shift causing Akechi’s stomach to drop with dread.

_ No…  _

“Who would reach him first?”

_ Stop!  _

“You...” His fingers curled around the trigger, the shadows poised and ready to lunge at a moment’s notice. 

Akechi needs to move. He needs to  _ move dammit _ because Akira won’t. Akira-

“...or my bullet?”

“NO-!”

He’s never given a chance. Time comes to a standstill as a shot rings out, as clear and resolute as a judge’s hammer coming down with deafening finality. His saving grace snuffed out along with his heart and hope. 

Except, what greets him after the shot was not the sound of Joker hitting the floor, but of his cognitive double screaming in agony. Akechi looks up, and there stands Joker unscathed. The bullet must have bounced off the leader, and reflected back towards his impostor. 

More blood began joining the already growing pile on the ground. The cognition spasmed and seethed, writhing in agony but still commanding enough presence of mind to command the surrounding shadows to attack. The shadows roared as they erupted with rage, revealing their true forms. 

Akira wastes no time firmly rooting himself between Akechi, and the shadows. The look on his face was that of a warrior on a warpath; the sheer power radiating off him so intense it was nearly tangible. Nothing was getting past him. 

Akechi clenched his teeth. “If you think for even a second that I would just sit back, and let you-”

“That’s not it,” Akira cut him off. When he turned back towards him, his eyes were softer. A small, genuine smile adorning his face that had Akechi’s heart racing. When the thief spoke again, his voice was gentler, softer. As though he were sharing a secret between the two of them.

“You’ll always be with me, remember?”

There was no other warning given before a brilliant burst of light erupted from Joker, and there stood Metatron in all of its righteous glory, metallic-like wings spread wide and imposing.

This was the second time seeing Metatron, and it still never failed to take his breath away each time. It never failed to cause Robin Hood to swell with admiration and pride, and Loki to cackle with power and resolve. 

Metatron was beautiful, and seeing it envelop Akira with its light caused Akechi’s heart to swell. To think Akechi of all people would have the power, and strong enough dedication to another person, to be able to bring such a creation to life. He couldn’t bring himself to accept that something as pure as Metatron could represent him, but seeing it gather Akira in its warm embrace, ready to take on any who got in its way, Akechi can finally start believing it. Maybe there truly was something worth saving in him, after all. 

It was for that reason Akechi didn’t lash out at the other for being reckless, yet again. With Metatron by his side, there was no stopping Joker once his mind was made up. For he was Akira. He was light. He would burn down the whole world with God’s judgement and Satan’s wrath if it meant keeping the ones he loved safe.

But that doesn’t mean he has to do it alone anymore. 

Painfully pushing past his absolute limit, Akechi somehow manages to stand back up. He stumbles his way to Akira’s side, ignoring the look of concern on the latter’s face. Instead, he focuses on the other him in front. 

“We do this together,” he says, voice firm and unyielding, as he turns to face his teammate, his light. “Or we don’t do this at all.”

Akira nods, fire burning brighter than ever in his eyes. He wastes no time handing over a healing item to him. They ready themselves as the shadows lunge and together, they fight for their survival. 

They fight for each other. 

***

So many things happen all at once afterwards that leave Akechi feeling disoriented. So many questions swirling around in his mind, the strong urge to deny the fact that he had actually survived, and it was all because Akira was too stubborn to let him die. So many  _ how comes _ and  _ what ifs _ , that he feels the most exhausted he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

So, Akechi doesn’t question how they suddenly ended up back at Leblanc. He doesn’t question when Akira shoulders the door open after finally succeeding in unlocking it after the third attempt, and practically drags the older teen’s body up the stairs. He doesn’t question or fight it when Akira tucks him into his bed, and crawls in after him. 

Akechi is beyond exhausted that he doesn’t even think twice before curling up against Akira’s side, tucking his head between the other’s neck and shoulder. An audible sigh of relief escapes him as an arm curls around his waist and pulls him closer, a face burying itself in his mop of brown hair. 

After everything that’s happened, Akechi lets himself have this. Just for one night, he can indulge in this beautiful moment granted to them by the strings of fate yet again. 

He would have entered the realm of unconsciousness right then and there had it not been for the audible shaky sigh Akira releases. The strong arms surrounding him tighten their grip as Akira tries to calm himself by taking slow, deep breaths. 

It takes some effort due to his exhaustion to pry himself from Akira’s embrace enough to see the other’s face. There were tears brimming the corners of his eyes, and it was obvious it was taking everything the thief had not to let them cascade down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” Akechi asks, concerned. 

“It’s just-” he bites his lips, cutting himself off. Struggles to find the right words before continuing. 

“I did it,” Akira says, voice trembling with tears and joy. “I finally saved you.”

There was no hesitation or doubt in what Akechi does next. 

He curled his hand around the back of Akira’s neck, and guides him closer until their lips meet. It wasn’t perfect. Their noses bumped and it was tinged with a desperate need for reassurance, but god was it  _ freeing _ .

Akira tasted like coffee and winter, and Akechi was sure he had died and ascended to cloud nine. It brought memories of their first meeting at the TV station to mind. Brought forth memories of all those not-so coincidental run ins at the train station, the friendly meet ups at the diner, and going to watch movies together. 

Memories of their walks through Inokashira Park, when dawn had barely broken through the horizon and painted the trees in gold. Their trip to the planetarium, when Akechi had turned to comment on the marvelous display but found his breath stolen away when he caught Akira’s eyes reflecting starlight and thought nothing could be more beautiful to him in that moment than the one sitting next to him. The time when Akechi finally decided to return the favor, and took Akira to the top of the Sky Tower where they had felt like they were on top of the world and that nothing could touch them.

But nothing could ever beat those memories that were shaped and brought to life in a quiet cafe hidden away from prying eyes, and felt more like a home to Akechi than his apartment ever did. Conversations had over warm coffee and plates of delicious curry. Idly doodling in crossword puzzle books, and playing chess, and just overall being with one another and being  _ happy _ .

Akechi had desperately tried to hide his true feelings. Claiming he was only agreeing to hang out with Akira to get information or keep an eye on him. However, as time went on, Akechi found himself opening up and relaxing more and more. A wishful promise of what could be if he let himself give in and take the offering Akira was presenting him with. 

Now that promise wasn’t so wishful anymore. It was real. 

They finally pull back, smiles adorning both of their faces. A tear has managed to slip free and stroll down Akira’s face, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Akechi wipes it away, feeling his own eyes burn at the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. 

“Thank you,” Akira says. 

Akechi’s brows knit in confusion. “What for?”

“For trusting me,” Akira answers, voice filled with so much love that Akechi believed he really would cry. “I have loved you in every timeline, Goro Akechi. Thank you for loving me back.”

Akechi is so overcome with love for this beautiful person with a literal angel inside of him that he can’t put into words. So he doesn’t.

He just grabs Akira, and pulls him right back in for another kiss. 

Kissing Akira was his liberation. Taking his hand and trusting him and loving him was his destiny. Akechi was done denying himself this happiness. This time, if their house of cards fell, he would swiftly rebuild it. Again and again, over and over, as many times as it takes until their foundation is permanently carved into the annals of eternity itself. 

Saving him was Akira’s greatest act of defiance; his ultimate mark as a rebel. It was high time Akechi returned the favor. 

***

“You ready?”

Akechi looks at him, long red mask gleaming from the hues of the blood tinted veins that traveled all the way down to the depths of Mementos. His prince attire stood out in stark contrast to the otherwise eerily distorted mesh around them. Loki and his black mask would have melded seamlessly with the surrounding, Joker thinks. The latter could have just as easily become one with the shadows of humanity’s tainted desires, and the others would have been none the wiser. 

Maybe the possibility was still there. Akechi no longer needed to hide that part of himself. If he chose to call on Loki and descend darkness upon his enemies, then he would call upon Metatron to rain down light. If he called on Robin Hood to be his holy avenger, then Joker would call upon Arsene to be the curse their enemies could never hope to escape. 

They would be each other’s balance. Akechi had pulled him back from the point of no return. He had instilled in him an angel of salvation, a guardian protector to protect the weak and rebel against those who wished to do harm. Joker had been trapped in a labyrinth of his own making, doomed to keep repeating the same mistakes and failures for an eternity because he was too consumed with grief that he failed to see the real gift Akechi had left him. A promise etched in his blood, and sworn down to his very bones. 

Maybe that’s why Igor and Lavenza kept granting him another chance every time he pleaded. In hopes that he would eventually come to this very same conclusion. How blind and foolish he had been. So many failures, so many haunted memories, but looking at Crow staring back at him with boasting charisma and unbeatable confidence, Joker knows that the reward was worth it all. 

Crow nods, and smiles his radiant smile. “Let’s do this.”

Joker grins, wolfish and powerful, and for once it doesn’t feel like a mask. It feels like the truth. “It’s showtime.”

They would take on Yaldabaoth together, and break this tragic cycle once and for all. A bright future with even brighter roads lay ahead of them, and together, hand in hand, they would conquer it all. 

For they were them. 

Thief and Detective, Phantom and Prince, Joker and Crow. 

The way it was always destined to be. 


End file.
